'Sweet amid lime-trees' blossom, astir with the whispers of springtide, Maiden speech to hear, eloquent murmur and sigh Ah! but the joy of the Thames when, Cam with Isis contending, Up the Imperial stream flash the impetuous Eights! Sweeping and strong is the stroke, as they race from Putney to Mortlake, Shying the Crab Tree bight, shooting through Hammersmith Bridge; Onward elastic they strain to the deep low moan of the rowlock; Louder the cheer from the bank, swifter the flash of the oar!' Pretty again, in its way, is the better-known 'Boat-race Sketch,' by Mr. Ashby-Sterry, whose heroine 'Twines her fair hair with the colours of Isis, Whilst those of the Cam glitter bright in her eyes.' The joys of Epsom and of Goodwood have not, I believe, been versified by any prominent rhymer, and, concerning those of Ascot, I know of but one elaborate celebration--that which describes, among other things, 'Tall bottles passing to and fro, And clear-cut crystal's creamy flow, Where vied with velvet Veuve Clicquot, Moet and Chandon;' as well as 'The homeward drive that came too soon By parks and lodges bright with June, And how we mocked the afternoon With lazy laughter.' Nothing, of course, is more peculiar to the Season than the devotion displayed by Society at the shrine of Art. The Academy and the Grosvenor are institutions without which the Season would not be itself. The latter has not figured very conspicuously in song, but at least it has managed to creep into one of the Gilbert-Sullivan operas, in the shape of a rhyme to 'greenery-yallery.' Mr. Andrew Lang, too, has told us of the critic who had 'Totter'd, since the dawn was red, Through miles of Grosvenor Gallery;' and, in another of his 'verses vain,' has practically limned the Gallery itself under the guise of 'Camelot': 'In Camelot, how gray and green The damsels dwell, how sad their teen; In Camelot, how green and gray The melancholy poplars sway. I wis I wot not what they mean, Or wherefore, passionate and lean, The maidens mope their loves between.' The character of Burne-Jonesian art is here very happily hit off. Happy, too, is Mr. Lang's sketch of the Philistian features of the Academy: 'Philistia! Maids in muslin white With flannelled oarsmen oft delight To drift upon thy streams, and float In Salter's most luxurious boat; In buff and boots the cheery knight Returns (quite safe) from Naseby fight.' But did not Praed long ago address 'The Portrait of a Lady at the Exhibition of the Royal Academy'? Has not Mr. Ashby-Sterry addressed 'Number One' in the said exhibition--also 'the portrait of a lady'? And, moreover, has not Mr. Austin Dobson made the Academy the scene of one of his brightly-written dialogues?--that in which the lady says: